


The Abyss

by elaine



Category: Invisible Man (TV 2000)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darien wakes to find himself in the hands of the CIA and his whole life in tatters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Abyss

 

 _" A man named Charlie Fogarty once wrote on a wall 'When you look into the Abyss, the Abyss looks back at you'. I thought I understood, but, as I was about to find out, I didn't..."_

The pounding in his head told Darien Fawkes that it had been a bad one this time. He tried to hold in a moan but a low sound escaped, and he moved his head restlessly from side to side without opening his eyes. Just another few seconds and he'd be able to steel himself for whatever unpleasant revelations were to come.

He couldn't even remember what had happened before the Quicksilver madness had taken hold of him. That was unusual, but it had happened before. It always meant that he'd been in the grip of the madness for at least a couple of days, and he wondered why. It didn't happen very often, now that Claire had perfected the process of making the counteragent.

"Fawkes. We know you're awake."

The voice was one he'd never heard before. Darien prised his eyes open reluctantly to look at the speaker. There were three men standing in front of him and Darien recognised none of them. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't organise his scattered wits enough to get the words out.

One of the men was wearing a lab coat. He frowned and stepped forward. "Darien, how are you feeling?" He lifted Darien's wrist and took his pulse. "You've been out for nearly a week."

A week! Darien fought a rising sense of panic. "Where..." His voice came out as a croak and he swallowed. "Bobby... th' Keeper..."

"We'll talk about that later. Just rest now." The stranger patted his arm gently. He produced a cup of water and a straw and held it to Darien's lips.

He drank gratefully, swallowing again as the water eased his parched throat. "Thanks. What happened? Where's..."

"Later, Fawkes." One of the other men stepped forward. He was wearing a blue suit, while his companion was in a black suit. "All you need to know is that you're with us now."

Darien pushed himself upright and the room swayed dizzyingly. Now that he getting his head together, he realised that the room was as unfamiliar as its occupants. "And who the Hell are you?"

"That's classified." Black Suit snapped the words when it seemed like Blue Suit might actually answer.

"What's going on?" Darien grabbed at his lab-coated helper's arm. "Tell me."

"Darien, try to keep calm." The other man took a syringe from the tray beside him and lifted it significantly. "I'm just going to give you something that'll make you more comfortable."

That was all Darien needed to hear. He threw himself off the bed he'd been lying on and dived towards the door. Predictably he didn't get very far. His legs folded under him and even if the two men in suits hadn't grabbed him, the only way he would have made it through the door would have been on his hands and knees.

They dragged him back to the bed and forced him onto it, snapping leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles. Even though he knew struggling would do no good, Darien couldn't stop himself. He yelled as the needle stung his arm. "Let me go! I want to see the Official, dammit. Claire! Hobbes, help me! Bobby..."

The drug slowed him, sapping the panicked response even as Darien fought to maintain it. He subsided with a choked sob, his vision blurring from the drug as well as the tears that filled his eyes. He blinked them away, but it was no use. One last, slow blink, and his eyes refused to open again. He could hear the three men arguing, but it sounded distant and unreal.

*

"Darien?"

It was the voice of the man in the lab coat. Darien didn't move. His hands were still cuffed and he felt exhausted.

"Darien, my name is Ted Bailey and I'm your new keeper." From his voice Bailey was standing close beside his bed.

Darien opened his eyes. "I've already got a keeper. Thanks all the same."

"Not any more, I'm afraid." One of his cuffs was released and footsteps circled the bed. The other cuff loosened and fell away. "It would make both our lives a lot easier if you could just accept that."

"Why should I?" Darien sat up and rubbed at his chafed wrists. "I don't know you. I want to talk to the Official. Or Eberts. I want to know what's happened, and where Bobby is."

Bailey studied him for a long time before he spoke. "I'm sorry. There's no easy way to tell you this. Mr Hobbes is dead. The Official and your other keeper were badly injured. You attacked them in the grip of Quicksilver madness. We were able to capture you and keep you safe, but you're no longer in San Diego."

There must still be some drug in his system, Darien decided. All he could feel was a deadly numbness. Bobby was dead, Claire and the Official hurt. None of it was real. He stared at his hands and blinked repeatedly, but they remained obstinately normal. They couldn't be the hands that had attacked Claire... killed Bobby... not Bobby... Darien realised he was muttering the words under his breath and clamped his lips shut.

"I'm afraid so." Bailey was standing close. "You shouldn't blame yourself. You can't be held responsible for what happens when the Quicksilver builds to toxic levels. Mr Hobbes was trying to restrain you. You broke his neck and attacked the Keeper. Then you got out of the lab and went after the Official. While you were beating him, Eberts managed to get help."

"No." Darien spoke in a whisper, but he was already beginning to believe it.

Bailey put a hand on his shoulder and Darien looked up. His face showed only sympathy. "I can show you the photos, if you like. We brought you here and kept you sedated for several days while I made up a batch of counteragent. All the counteragent the Agency had was destroyed in the struggle."

It was all beginning to make an awful kind of sense. The numbness was dissipating but Darien clung to it, afraid to face what lay beyond.

"Would you like a mild sedative, Darien? It's a lot to take in at once." Bailey lifted another syringe. "It's up to you."

He could feel the pain hovering somewhere in the distance. Bobby was dead. Everybody he knew was gone; his life was turned upside down for the second time in little more than a year. He wasn't ready to face that. Silently, Darien offered his arm for the needle.

*

Bailey folded his arms across his chest decisively. "No. I'm sorry Darien, but this has been going on for too long."

"Just give me the damn shot." Darien halted his pacing in front of the shorter man and glared down at him from a distance of about three inches, "I mean it, Bailey."

Bailey shook his head. "It isn't doing you any good, either physically or emotionally, to keep you sedated."

He stayed where he was, eyeballing Bailey, but the keeper remained unmoved. Bailey was even more stubborn than Claire... Abruptly, Darien turned away. Just a couple of steps took him to the wall. "I need it."

Still no response. Darien leaned into the wall, pressing his face against the cool plaster. It was easier, sometimes, if he couldn't see his surroundings; everything around him reminded him of what he'd lost. He had to convince Bailey that he needed the sedative, and that meant talking about... about... "I see him sometimes."

"Your partner." Bailey sounded sympathetic.

"My... yeah, partner. Friend. He was my friend." Darien choked on the word. "I loved him."

"The bond between partners can run very deep. You depend on each other in life threatening situations." From the sound of his voice, Bailey was standing very close behind him. "I understand, Darien, but..."

"No, you don't understand!" Darien turned to face him. "You don't." He pushed past Bailey and began pacing again. "I killed him, Bailey. I don't want to see... I can't face him. Not yet."

He was shaking. Darien wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes, standing miserably in the centre of the small room. He heard Bailey sigh and then his footsteps retreating. It seemed like an eternity before the footsteps returned. The brief sting of the needle sent a shudder of relief through him.

"I'll give you a sedative at night to help you sleep, but this is the last one in the daytime." Bailey sounded resigned. "It isn't going to make the pain go away, Darien. All this will do is put off the moment when you have to deal with it."

"Yeah, well that sounds pretty good to me." The sedative was starting to take effect. Darien walked over to the bed and flopped onto it, turning his face to the wall.

*

...warm tongue, teasing at his lips. He parted them just a little, allowing the sensual invasion to proceed. Everywhere was Bobby-sense – taste, scent, touch... he could feel the soft tickle of hair at Bobby's nape with one hand, and the ripple of hard muscle under silken skin with his other hand. Bobby's tongue in his mouth, Bobby's body, pressed against him... Bobby...

For the first few moments Darien could still feel the pressure of those lips, the raised tissue of the scar on Bobby's shoulder. Bobby had never told him how he'd got that scar, and now he never would... Darien closed his eyes again and concentrated on breathing slowly.

Somehow dreaming about making love with Bobby again had been worse than the nightmares that his mind usually spawned, creating over and over again the events he couldn't remember of the day he'd killed Bobby. Tears prickled beneath his eyelids and he clenched them more tightly still.

He knew now that his room was watched, had located the camera yesterday, and he had no intention of giving his watchers a floorshow. It was bad enough that he woke from his nightmares with his covers in a twisted sweaty mass around his legs. He was not going to let them see him curled up into a foetal ball sobbing his guts out.

At least he managed the second part, but when Darien heard his door open he was lying curled around one of the pillows, shivering.

"Rise and shine, Fawkes. It's time you started earning your keep." The nameless man Darien had begun to think of as Black Suit shook his shoulder impatiently. "Get up."

Darien didn't even bother to snarl. He could feel the beginnings of the pressure that heralded another bout of Quicksilver madness, but he didn't care. If he went crazy again, maybe they'd shoot him.

Black Suit grabbed his wrist and twisted it upwards. The tattoo was showing half red. He made a satisfied grunt and let Darien's wrist drop again. "Time to go."

He pulled Darien upright and then led him towards the door. Darien went. He didn't do much of his own accord any more. He neither knew, nor cared, how many days he'd been in this windowless room. Beside the enormity of what he'd done nothing mattered much to him, least of all his life.

Black Suit led him through deserted corridors to an office that was remarkably like the Official's office, even down to the shield on the wall. Except that it bore the symbol of the CIA. Looking from Black Suit to the equally impassive Blue Suit, Darien felt a vague satisfaction. He deserved these bastards and they deserved him.

The man behind the desk was younger than the Official, though not by much. He was as thin as the Official was fat, and there was not even a trace of the good humour that the Official could radiate when he was pleased with himself. Somehow Darien was aware that the thin man was pleased with himself, and that was the most frightening thing of all. Survival instincts started to kick in and Darien straightened a little from his defeated slouch.

"Darien Fawkes. The invisible man." A hint of Southern drawl accentuated the smug possessiveness of the man's tone.

It only took a second's thought. The Quicksilver chilled his skin briefly and his vision changed. The thin man didn't seem very worried. "Take even one step towards me and my assistant will use his gun. A tranquilliser gun only, but I'm sure you'd rather avoid the experience."

Crap. Another thought, almost subconscious, and the Quicksilver shivered away from his body. He didn't look down at the tiny shards. "All right, you've got me. Now what're you gonna do with me?"

"You can call me Mr Carter." The thin man steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "It's not my real name, of course, but there's no need to be too formal, unlike your former... protector."

Darien shied away from the memory of what he'd done to his boss. They'd shown him the photos of that. Bailey had stopped them before they got to the photos of Bobby and Claire, and Darien was sickeningly grateful for that. It had helped ease his resentment of Bailey a little.

There was a chair a few feet behind him. Darien backed up and flopped into it. He wasn't going to show Carter just how frightened he was, and it was surprisingly easy to fall back into old habits. "You didn't answer my question."

A hand smacked into the side of his head, and before Darien knew what was happening he was face down on the floor with the two Suits kneeling on top of him and his arms were twisted up behind his back.

"You ought to learn as soon as possible, that I'm not going to be as tolerant as your former boss, Mr Fawkes." Darien heard a chair being pushed back. After a moment a pair of beautifully polished black shoes appeared in his limited field of vision. The toe of one shoe slid under his shoulder and nudged it upwards. Combined with the twisted arm, it was enough to send a jolt of pain into his back and chest. The shoes retreated a few steps. "You can let him up now."

Darien was released, but took his time getting to his feet. He stood, swaying slightly and praying for the madness to overwhelm him now, but it was too soon and he knew it. Just let that sadistic bastard still be here in a couple of hours...

"As to your tasks..." Carter smiled faintly. "You will obey orders. That's all I expect of you, Mr Fawkes. You don't need to pretend you're an agent. You're a tool. Or, perhaps I should say… a weapon. A weapon doesn't need to think, it merely needs to do what it was designed to do. Borden's mistake was to forget that. It won't be mine."

The interview was over. The Suit Brothers hustled him out and back down into the basement lab. He hadn't seen any other person during the whole journey there or back, and was beginning to wonder if he ever would.

*

Two hours later the Suits returned. Darien went without a murmur. Back to Carter's office.

"I have an assignment for you." Even the illusion of affability was gone now. Carter opened a folder to display the photo of a fair-haired middle-aged man. "You don't need to know who he is. You will kill him."

"No!" Darien leaned forward, then froze as the two Suits shifted menacingly. "I won't kill for you, or anybody else."

Carter smiled. "I was told you'd be reluctant. You might as well get used to the idea, Mr Fawkes. You will do as you are ordered, it's only a question of how much you have to suffer first."

"I won't..." As if on cue, pain stabbed at the back of his head. Darien dropped to his knees in front of the desk. Black Suit hauled him upright again. "No. I won't."

"Take him downstairs." Carter waited until the two men had dragged Darien as far as the door. "I assure you, Mr Fawkes, you will beg me to allow you to kill this man."

The absolute certainty in Carter's voice made Darien shudder. Two minutes later he was in the padded room in the basement, wearing a straightjacket, and the madness was rising.

*

Bailey came just as the madness was getting close to the point that Darien wasn't trying to fight it any more. He slipped the needle efficiently into Darien's arm and stepped back.

"Thanks." Darien watched the other man cautiously as Bailey released him from the straightjacket. Bailey seemed okay, but he was working for Carter, and that made him automatically suspect. He stood and stretched, then glanced at his wrist. The tattoo was still red, except for the last segment. He looked over at Bailey in alarm.

Bailey looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, but it's orders. Just enough counteragent to keep you from going into Quicksilver madness."

"That's crazy! I'll just need another jab in a few hours." A warning stab of pain told Darien it might not even be that long. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I think you should consider your options carefully, Darien." Bailey took his arm and led him over to the bed. "Sit down and let me check you out." He was silent as he took Darien's pulse and blood pressure. "Mr Carter is quite ruthless. He always achieves results. That's how he's got as far as he has."

"I'm not going to be one of his pet assassins." Darien met Bailey's eyes, but Bailey simply shrugged.

"If you need to use the... ah... facilities, you should do it now. The straightjacket will have to go back on soon."

"Thanks for nothing." But practicality won out over anger. In the half-hour Bailey allowed him, he cleaned up and did a few stretches to loosen his muscles. He was under no illusion about what was going to happen next.

*

Bailey opened the door to the padded room and edged his way inside. Darien didn't raise his head, but his reddened eyes followed the cautious movements. One part of his mind watched with a predator's eye, the other wanted to scream at Bailey to run. That situation, he knew, was not likely to last much longer; the violence battering at the inside of his skull would not be denied. What frightened Darien most was how much easier it was becoming to give in to his raging Id.

"Darien?" Bailey held up the syringe. "It's time for your shot."

For the moment reason won over madness. Darien lurched to his feet and staggered towards his new keeper. The syringe held the promise, not of sanity, but at least the lessening of the pain for a while. As the drug hit his bloodstream Darien moaned. He waited almost apathetically for Bailey to unfasten the straightjacket and then sagged against him.

"Let me help you." Bailey half dragged, half carried him to the bed in the other room. "It's been four days, Darien. Your body won't stand this much longer."

Darien ignored him. It wasn't anything he didn't already know, but all he wanted to do right now was to lie on the bed and try to forget his aching muscles and pounding head. He only had thirty minutes or so before Bailey would have to put the straightjacket on again.

He must have dozed off. It seemed like no time at all before Bailey was shaking his shoulder and urging him to sit up. Darien groaned as tense muscles protested his every movement. Already he could hear the insidious whisper of the Quicksilver in his mind, and he made no attempt to resist the straightjacket.

Bailey fastened the last strap and took hold of Darien by his shoulders. "Think about it, Darien. If you're really trying to kill yourself, you're close to succeeding. If you're not... you won't beat Mr Carter. He'll let you die rather than allow you to dictate to him. He'll still have the gland, and we have enough expertise to transfer it to another volunteer."

It was hard to think. For the last four days he hadn't slept, had hardly eaten, and had been in almost constant pain. Most of the time he'd been too caught up in the madness to care. It was only during the brief respites following the shots of counteragent that he had the chance to consider Carter's words. ... you will beg me to allow you to kill this man...

He'd die first. Wouldn't he?

It wouldn't be the first time he'd killed. There had been that henchman of Arnaud's, but he'd helped murder innocent people at the complex. He'd kill Arnaud, if he ever got the chance, but Arnaud had killed Kevin. He'd killed Bobby...

He'd killed Bobby, and somehow it felt obscene to want to continue living after doing that. He wanted to die. Except for that small part of him that refused to accept that it could end like this. The part of him that didn't want Carter to win. But if he did what Carter wanted, wouldn't that mean that Carter had won anyway?

That question never got resolved. When Bailey came in to check on him, Darien summoned the last shreds of control. "Tell Carter I'll do it."

*

It was easy. Too easy. Carter had refused him the counteragent until after he'd actually killed the target and that cushioned any emotion Darien might otherwise have felt. The Suits drove him to a wealthy suburb and pointed to a quietly elegant house. In spite of the fact that Darien hadn't been outside in weeks, he took no interest in the surroundings. He sat in the back of the dark green sedan wearing sunglasses to hide the redness in his eyes and allowed the scenery to flow past unnoticed.

"He's alone. Just ring the doorbell and when he comes, shoot him." Blue Suit held out a small gun with a silencer. Darien took it impassively, allowed the Quicksilver to flow over him, and slid out of the car.

The rage was building inside him, but Darien was far beyond the point where it had any direction. He could as easily have killed the first person he saw. Luckily, there weren't any pedestrians on the street. He walked nonchalantly up the path and pressed the doorbell. The target arrived before the last echo had died away.

He looked just like his photo. Allowing the Quicksilver to dissipate, Darien smiled and raised the gun.

The target stared at him in shock for a moment, then he lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Please... whatever you want, I'll give it to you, just don't..." He began to back away.

Darien used his free hand to slide the sunglasses down his nose, exposing the red madness of his eyes, and the target froze. Darien's smile widened. He pulled the trigger. It was that easy.

*

Darien slept. It was the first real sleep he'd had since Bailey had stopped giving him sedatives. Even so, his dreams were filled with blood. Bobby and blood...

…blood on his hands, blood everywhere. He walked through streams of blood towards the house. Rivulets of blood flowed over his shoes and up his legs and body, like Quicksilver, only in reverse. The door opened and it was Bobby standing in front of him. Silent screams tore at his throat. Not Bobby... please, not Bobby... The sound of the shot was deafening, in spite of the silencer. Blood spread across Bobby's chest, spilled out of his mouth and eyes and nose, gleaming like Quicksilver. Bobby was still smiling as he fell.

"Bobby!" Darien jerked himself upright, breathing hard. "God, no..."

The images from the dream were still vivid and he had to fight the dry contractions of his gut, but there was nothing in his stomach to bring up; he hadn't eaten in days. Only the adrenaline from the Quicksilver madness had kept him on his feet yesterday.

Yesterday he'd killed a man. Today, for the first time in nearly a week, he didn't hurt all over his body. Was that all it took to get him to kill?

Rationally, Darien knew that it wasn't so simple, but his heart wasn't telling him that right now. He wondered what Bobby would think of what he'd done. It was so damned hard to remember that Bobby was dead... he bit back a sob and swung his legs off the bed. What was done was done and now he'd earned himself six days to try to get out of here.

There was food on a small table by the wall. Darien stumbled towards it, almost instinctively glancing at his wrist. Already the tattoo was over three fourths red.

"Bailey! Bailey, get in here!" Darien was at the door. As he'd expected, it was locked. He pounded his fist on the door and yelled even louder. "Get the Hell in here!"

"I'm here, Darien. Calm down and I'll open the door." Bailey's voice sounded strained.

It took all of Darien's self control to do as Bailey asked. He was still breathing heavily when Bailey opened the door. Behind the keeper, one of the Suits was standing guard. "Not him. He doesn't come in."

"All right." Bailey left the door open. "What is it, Darien?"

Darien held his arm up, wrist outwards. "What the Hell is going on?"

"I'm sorry Darien, it's orders." To do him credit, Bailey looked regretful. "You get enough counteragent to last twenty-four hours. As long as you behave, you don't have anything to worry about."

"Don't I?" Darien turned away and then glared back at Bailey over his shoulder. "Nothing to worry about. If Carter told you to stop giving me the shots, you'd just do it, wouldn't you?"

Bailey smiled reassuringly. "He won't do that. You're too valuable to him."

"You mean the gland is." Darien turned to face Bailey.

"Well... yes. But it would cost a lot of money to transfer the gland to another volunteer."

"Well, that makes me feel real secure. Dammit!" Darien strode over to the table and swept the food to the floor. It didn't make him feel any better. "I'm gonna take a shower."

A part of him had hoped that somehow he could get back to San Diego; that Claire would brew up a batch of counteragent and he'd convince the Official to take him back. Even being back at the Agency without Bobby, painful as it would have been, was a better option that staying here. Now it wasn't an option at all.

*

…blood. So much blood. The walls and floor were splattered with it, and the smell of it made him want to puke. The men and women standing around the table were covered in blood. One of them held a scalpel. They drew back as he got closer and he saw the man lying face down on the table... the gaping hole in the back of his head, filled with blood. The gland was lying in a dish with blood all around it. It gleamed with silvery highlights through the scarlet smears. Then the man on the table moved. He knew he could not, must not, see the man's face... to see that face would be worse than dying. He turned and ran.

The pounding of Bobby's heart woke him and he lay sweating and breathless, waiting for the panic to subside to the point where he dared to move. His mouth was dry... too many meds, taken for too long. It wasn't like he had a choice, though. The dream had haunted him for weeks, growing stronger every time, until he was so afraid to go through it again that he couldn't sleep without help from a pill bottle.

He struggled out of the bed and walked on wobbly legs to the bathroom. The harsh neon light did nothing to improve his unnatural pallor, or the bags under his reddened eyes. He splashed water on his face and then drank. It didn't help much. He went back to the bed and sat on the edge, ignoring the twisted, sweat dampened sheets. He wasn't ready to lie down, in case he fell asleep again.

Something about the dream nagged at him, but the emotions were so intense they drowned out whatever it was the dream was trying to tell him. Bobby rubbed his hands over his head and face and then let his shoulders slump with exhaustion.

"Damn gland." His muttered words sounded loud in the silence. "Damn murdering, lousy freaking gland..."

Losing Darien had been the worst thing that had ever happened to him, in a life that seemed to have more than its fair share of bad things. Even separating from Vivian hadn't been as bad as this. At least Vivian had still been alive. For years Bobby had been able to tell himself he still had a chance, so that, by the time she'd met Brock, he'd got used to the idea of being alone. Sure, it had hurt to give up that hope, but Darien's death had left him with no comforting illusions.

Even now, thinking about that was enough to bring Bobby to the verge of tears. He fought them back, grimly aware that if he gave way to them he'd probably be in for another bout of depression and paranoia. The Official wouldn't like that. He'd stretched all their tolerances to the limits in those first weeks. He'd very nearly self destructed again, and the Official had made it clear that if he did it would be the last he saw of the Agency.

So he'd put his life back together again, piece by painful piece, and tried to look like he was in control. His shrink kept telling him to let the grief out, but Bobby knew better. Without the Agency, his life would be meaningless, worthless. And if he let himself feel what was roiling inside of him, he'd never be able to keep it together. So he kept it inside.

Bobby yawned. God knew he didn't want to sleep, but he was tired... and if he went back to sleep that damned gland was just waiting to get into his head. He lay back on the bed, then sat up suddenly. The gland! What had happened to the gland? There was no way the Official would leave the gland in Darien's dead body, but if he'd found a new volunteer, Bobby would almost certainly have heard about it.

Or maybe not... he'd been walking around like a zombie for weeks, and even now nobody wanted to know him. Claire was the only person who'd been willing to talk to him about anything that wasn't strictly business. If only he'd demanded to see Darien's body he would know, right now, whether it was all a lie. As it was, he'd have to wait until morning.

Bobby relaxed back into the damp pillow and slept dreamlessly.

*

"No, Bobby." Claire turned away from him and picked up a beaker. "I'm sorry. I know you were very close to Darien, but this is ridiculous."

"Yeah?" Bobby was so sure now that he did no more than smile ironically. "What's ridiculous is you and the Official thinking that Bobby Hobbes wouldn't figure it out."

She glanced at him and then quickly away again. Her head bowed over the beaker and a long strand of hair partially veiled her face. "I saw him die, Bobby."

"Of a heart attack while he was going gland happy." It made his stomach lurch to say it, but her reaction only strengthened his conviction that he was onto something. "And you just buried him with that seventeen million dollar gland in his head."

"What do you want?" Claire turned on him angrily. "That gland had killed two people. Who would have been crazy enough to let us put it into their head?"

Bobby just smiled again.

"You? Bobby, you were in no condition to make a choice like that." Her expression softened.

"Since when would that have made a difference, if the Fat Man wanted another victim?" His bitterness was all too obvious, and Bobby tried to shrug casually. "That's okay. It's business. I understand that. I just want to know the truth."

"Listen, mate..." Claire put her hand on his arm. "Darien was your friend, but you can't..."

He shook her off. "Oh yes I can." It was so obvious to him that she was lying, and he took a step closer pointing an accusing finger at her. "Darien's more than just a friend. He's my lover, and I am not gonna let you bullshit me any more."

Her hand went up to her mouth and Claire stared at him in horrified silence for a moment. Then her face hardened. "Bobby, I can't..."

"You have to tell me." His chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. "Claire, you have to. I can't take this much longer."

His gaze held hers for several beats of his heart, then Claire looked away and he knew he'd won.

*

Unfortunately, Claire knew very little more than the bare fact that Darien was alive and in the hands of another agency. They had Darien, and the formula for the counteragent, and she was pretty certain that Darien was not in San Diego. It only took a moment's consideration for Bobby to decide that asking the Official straight out was a good way to get his ass kicked out of the Agency forever. That really only left one option.

"Robert, please unhand me." Eberts glared at him but Bobby simply tightened his grip and dragged the reluctant aide into a small interview room that was seldom, if ever, used. "You really can't afford to have any more complaints made about you. The Official…"

"Yeah, let's talk about the Official." Bobby released Eberts and leaned against the door. "Let's talk about why the Official would let some other agency take Fawkes away and then tell Fawkes' partner that he was dead."

Eberts' eyes widened before he hurriedly looked away. The guy was hopeless at lying. "That's ridiculous. Have you been forgetting to take your medication again?"

"I'm taking it." The time was long past when Bobby was fazed by somebody talking about that. "I know Fawkes is alive, okay? I'm not asking, I'm telling you. I want to know where he is, and I figure that anything the Fat Man does, you're gonna know about. You're practically joined at the hip. Sometimes I wonder about what's goin' on between you two."

He'd only thrown in the last remark to rattle Eberts, but it succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. Eberts went pale and then red. "That's… that's… how dare you?"

"Look, I don't care if you're doing it on the desk in your damn lunch hour. I want answers." Bobby grabbed the front of Eberts' jacket and dragged him up close. "Where's my partner?"

"He's not your partner any more." Eberts pulled away and then smoothed his lapels fussily. "You might as well just accept that."

"Yeah?" Bobby stared him out. It wasn't particularly difficult. "You'll be doing the Fat Man a favour, Eberts. There ain't no way he'd give up Fawkes willingly. So help me get Fawkes back and he ain't gonna ask too many questions about how I did it. He doesn't have to know about you tellin' me."

Eberts seemed to be debating internally. Finally he met Bobby's eyes. "I don't know everything, but I do know that the orders came from the President, and that the people who took Fawkes away were from the CIA. I believe they took him to Washington, DC."

"I thought the Fat Man had the President on his side." Bobby frowned. This was going to make things difficult. "Didn't he get the President to call off the CIA before?"

"Exactly." Eberts smirked a little. "We believe that the CIA must have some kind of hold over the President, but the Official has been trying to find out what that is ever since Fawkes was removed. So far we haven't succeeded."

"Well Bobby Hobbes isn't going to hang around waiting for you guys to come up with something. I'm gonna find Fawkes and bring him back." Bobby opened the door and then hesitated. "Don't you go telling the Fat Man about this."

Eberts looked superior. "I wouldn't dream of it. If things don't go well, and I don't suppose they will, he'll be able to deny all knowledge of your actions."

"He'd do that anyway." Bobby couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for his boss. He'd do the same if he was in charge of the Agency. "And you watch too many Mission Impossible reruns, my friend."

*

If Darien was in Washington DC, then Bobby had a pretty good idea how to find him. He lost no time in buying an airline ticket and grabbing a cab out to the airport. Normally he would have kept a watch out for any suspicious looking people in his vicinity, but today he was far too preoccupied. The hand that came to rest on his arm nearly startled him out of his skin.

"Bobby, are you sure you're taking your meds?" Claire examined him closely.

With a sigh, Bobby pulled the little pill bottle out of his pocket. "Wanna count them?" He waited for her to shake her head. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm coming with you." She held up her hand to silence his objections. "You may need the counteragent. I started a new batch after we talked two days ago." She pulled a small padded case out of her hand luggage. "Besides, I want to help. You're going to need help, you know."

"Bobby Hobbes does not need..." he gave it up with a shrug. Truth was, to get Darien back, he'd take any help that was offered, do anything that was necessary. And Claire was right, Darien might need the counteragent. "Okay. Just do as I tell you. This could get dangerous."

"Of course I will, Bobby." Claire smiled sweetly.

He eyed her uncertainly, but the boarding call came then, and since they were seated in different sections of the plane, he had plenty of time to think about how he was going to handle things. They wouldn't have much time before they were missed. If it had been just him, he probably would have been okay. The Official would have assumed he'd gone psycho and left it at that. But with Claire along for the ride, he'd have at most two or three days.

There were a couple of people he knew who could tell him where a covert group of CIA agents might stash somebody. He knew a few places himself, but it was years since he'd been in that kind of loop, and things changed rapidly. So, first step: get a base of operations, then shake down a couple of his old FBI buddies for the information he needed. The FBI hated the CIA, and Bobby knew exactly who to ask.

*

"No, Hobbes. No way am I putting my career on the line for you." Jones made to shove past him, but Bobby grabbed his arm.

People were looking at them. With a quick glance around, Bobby pulled Jones over to a bench and stood over him until he sat, scowling. "Look, you are not gonna lose your job over this. I've never ratted on a friend in my life, and I'm not gonna start now."

"You're not my friend, Bobby. We hate each other."

Bobby acknowledged the truth of this with a dismissive shrug. "You do this for me and you'll be the best friend I ever had."

"You're missing something, here." Jones leaned forward. "I don't want to be your friend. Is that clear?"

"Sure, but you're gonna tell me anyway." Bobby fixed him with a level stare. "You hate the CIA as much as I do. More, maybe. Besides, they took my partner. Nobody messes with a Federal Agent's partner and gets away with it. Right?"

"He's your partner, why should I care?" Jones made to rise and stopped as Bobby shoved a gun into his side. He dropped back onto the bench. "On the other hand, it's a matter of principle, I guess."

Bobby pressed the gun a little more firmly into Jones' side. "You'd better believe it, Jonesy. And while you're having a change of heart, just remember that if you don't do this, and anything happens to Fawkes, I won't stop until I've hunted you down. You got that?"

He thought, from the look on Jones' face, that the agent had got it very clearly. He smiled slightly as he strolled away. Sometimes being psycho paid off.

*

Claire met him at the door of their hotel room. "Well? Did you get anything?"

"Not yet." He pushed past her and dropped onto his bed. This was going to be the hard part. He'd never been good at waiting. "I'm gonna get some sleep. If the phone rings don't answer it. I don't want anyone knowing you're involved."

Belatedly, he toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket. When he lay back and looked up at her, Claire was glaring down at him, hands on hips.

"That's it? Aren't you going to… I don't know… go out looking?"

"If I start asking too many questions someone's gonna hear about it. So, the answer's no. I am not gonna go out looking."

Something of the frustration he was feeling must have shown, because her expression changed from annoyance to concern. "Are you all right, Bobby?"

"I'm fine." He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together on his chest. He hadn't slept much in the last three days, and he doubted he'd be sleeping much tonight. "Why don't you go do something? Shopping, maybe."

He heard her snort, then the sound of her moving around the room. After a few minutes the door opened and closed. Bobby sighed with relief. He needed her, and God knew, he was grateful she was willing to help him, but…

When the phone rang, he was dozing lightly. Before he was completely awake, his hand was lifting the receiver. "Hobbes."

It was Jones. He scribbled down the addresses Jones gave him and hung up with a sense of grim satisfaction. Time for a shower. Then, when Claire came back, they could check the addresses out. He knew the area they were in, and he figured a couple would attract a lot less attention than a man on his own would. Yet another reason to be grateful for Claire's presence.

*

The first address was a bust. Whatever the CIA had been doing here, they'd obviously shut up shop and gone away. The second was a possibility, but Bobby wasn't convinced. He was starting to worry. Jones had only given him four addresses; maybe the sneaky bastard was yanking his chain. At the third address they hit pay dirt.

"Isn't that…"

Bobby dragged Claire back around the corner. "Yeah. What was his name again?"

She shook her head. Bobby couldn't remember either, but he had no doubt it was the sneaky CIA bastard who'd tried to get Darien away from the Agency.

He eased himself up to the corner of the building and looked. The street was clear of any suspicious looking people, though no doubt somebody on the street would be an agent. After a minute, Bobby had the woman pegged. He pulled Claire close to his side and they walked around the corner, heads bent together, apparently absorbed in each other.

It looked ordinary enough. A small office building with people wandering past, not paying much attention to it; but it had a single, small entrance, easy to protect, and the second floor had a large billboard offering rooms to lease that effectively covered half the windows on that floor.

"Nice set up, Keepie." Bobby smiled as he murmured the words. "It's not gonna be easy to get in there."

She laughed softly. "We don't even know if Darien's inside."

"Oh, he is. But we'll check out the last address, just in case." He put his arm around her waist. "Let's just stroll down this way."

They wandered past the building and turned down the next side street. A few yards further on there was a dead-end alley running parallel to the street at the front. Bobby glanced down it to see a metal rollup door that was well and truly padlocked. There was no way to tell if someone was watching from the inside. There would certainly be hidden cameras.

The last address, like the first, was a bust. They headed back to the office building in their hired car, parked where they could watch the front of the building, as well as see anything coming out of the alley, and settled in for a long wait.

*

"Anything?" Bobby slid into the passenger seat and conscientiously placed a peck on Claire's cheek, in case anyone was watching.

She shook her head. "I haven't seen anyone suspicious. Are you sure about this, Bobby?"

"I'm sure. Just drive a couple of blocks south. I've hired another car so we can change shifts." Bobby grinned at her. "Even those CIA bozos would start wondering if the same car was parked outside their headquarters for half a day."

Just the few minutes it took to drive those two blocks and drive back again had Bobby feeling jumpy. He left Claire in the other car, with instructions to relieve him in a few hours. Then he settled in to wait. Over the years he'd learned to switch off enough of his attention, while still being alert to notice anything significant, but today he was jittery and he knew exactly why that was. Darien.

He'd let the kid get under his skin, that was what. It wasn't just the sex either, though he'd never been the kind to go for casual sex. Very little about his life was casual. Still, he could usually put aside his feelings when he was involved in a case, except where Vivian was concerned; and now Darien had got to him too. It would probably get him killed one day, but it would be worth dying for, to have what he and Darien had somehow found together.

Bobby fidgeted in his seat and muttered under his breath. It was unlikely he'd turn up something significant today, or even tomorrow. It could be days. He hoped not, because Claire would have to go back to San Diego before she was missed, and Darien might need her help.

The afternoon dragged on, with nothing to relieve the boredom. When Claire returned, Bobby drove back to the hotel for a few hours sleep.

*

It was late the following afternoon when the break came. A dark green sedan drew out of the alley and turned left.

"It's him. He's in the back." Bobby jammed the car into gear and pulled out hurriedly, without so much as a glance at the oncoming traffic. Luckily, there weren't any cars dangerously close.

Even so, Claire flinched. "Are you sure? There wasn't much time. I didn't see any of them clearly enough."

"I'm sure." He would have recognised Darien in a lot less time and from a lot further away than that.

Bobby kept at least three cars between them and Darien's car as they wound their way through the city. The sedan pulled up outside a sports stadium and, as Bobby closed the gap, he saw Darien slip out of the back door and cross the sidewalk into the stadium.

He stopped their car and dived out the door as Claire hurriedly slid over into the driver's seat. Darien's height made it easier to follow him, but Bobby was well behind him as he followed the slouching figure into the mass of people. It could have been worse, he supposed. It was still early enough that the majority of fans hadn't yet arrived.

Darien was halfway up the stairs, using that long legged stride to take the steps two and three at a time, when Bobby finally got a clear space that allowed him to catch up. He grabbed at his lover's arm. "Darien."

The face that turned to him was almost a stranger's. Almost, but not quite... he'd seen the Quicksilver madness in Darien's eyes more often than he wanted to remember. Instinctively, he flinched away and Darien simply turned away with no more than a snarl. Bobby hesitated, his heart pounding, but he had no real option other than to follow.

There were even fewer people on the next landing up, where the corporate boxes were. Bobby looked down into the lobby and saw Claire. He waved and caught her attention, then turned, looking for Darien. As he watched, Darien Quicksilvered, then the door to one of the boxes opened and closed quietly.

He hoped there wasn't anybody already in the box, but until Claire arrived with her tranquilliser gun, he wasn't prepared to go up against Darien. There was just too much danger of having to hurt him.

"What's up?" Claire reached his side, puffing a little. "Where is he?"

Bobby jerked his head towards the box door. "In there. He's going gland happy. Got your dart gun?" He knew she'd brought it with her, in case of this kind of eventuality. Claire produced it, looking grim and he took it. "He's gone see through. Grab that fire extinguisher. We're probably gonna need it."

She got it straight away and Bobby smiled. Claire might be a scientist not an agent, but she had good instincts. If she hadn't, he would never have let her come, counteragent or no counteragent.

When they were both ready, Bobby eased the door open and slipped through, leaving just enough space for Claire. There was nobody in the box. "Fawkes. It's Bobby. Why don't you just drop the saran wrap stuff and say hello."

"No, you're not."

The voice came from the corner by the bar. Bobby exchanged a glance with Claire and she nodded, holding the fire extinguisher ready.

"We're gonna take you home, Fawkes." Bobby eased himself a little closer, making sure Darien couldn't get past him to the door. "Don't you wanna go home?"

"I don't have a home." Darien's voice choked off. "Get away from me, you bastard!"

Bobby felt something brush past him and then Claire cried out and let loose with the extinguisher. For a moment, Darien's outline was clear as he hesitated at the door. That was all Bobby needed. He shot. The door slammed back and Claire went flying. Bobby ran past her without a second glance.

In the landing there was no sign of Darien and for a horrible moment Bobby thought maybe he'd missed and Darien had got away. Then his lover's sprawled body shimmered into visibility near the top of the stairs, right under the shocked stares of a couple of middle-aged men.

After that it was easy. Bobby flashed his badge and got the witnesses away from Darien while Claire gave him a shot of counteragent. Then Bobby hoisted Darien to his feet with Claire's assistance and they dragged him down the stairs, one arm over each of their shoulders. Once they were in the car, Bobby floored the accelerator and they were gone, before there was any sign of the men who had brought Darien to the stadium.

*

Darien drifted back into consciousness, distantly aware of an eerie floating sensation. It felt strange, yet somehow familiar. Then it registered. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, there was not the slightest hint of Quicksilver madness. Bailey must have given him an over-generous dose of counteragent. He sighed, without opening his eyes, and relaxed into the mattress.

"He's coming round." The voice was familiar too. Claire, his former keeper had that same kind of accent, which Bobby had insisted was English, but he'd been sure was something else.

He was aware that the woman who had spoken was standing close by, but her voice sounded slightly muffled, as though she was partly turned away from him. She moved away, and someone else took her place. "Hey, big guy. Time to wake up."

It was the one voice he'd thought he would never hear again. His eyes flew open to see Bobby's worried face hovering over him. Darien's throat tightened so that he could hardly breathe, let alone speak. He lunged upwards and flung an arm around Bobby's neck. Immediately, Bobby's arms went around him and they kissed hungrily.

For long moments Darien was aware of nothing except the heat of Bobby's body, the taste of his mouth, and the furious pounding of both their hearts. Then the sound of a throat being cleared made them break apart, though Bobby didn't release him. He turned his head to see Claire watching them with unconcealed amusement.

"I think I'll just go for a walk." She smiled. "It's good to see you again, Darien."

Darien was barely aware that the door had closed behind her. He stared up into Bobby's hazel eyes, seeing the changes in his lover. He looked like he'd been to Hell and back. But he was alive... incredibly, he was alive and whole. Darien curled his hand around the nape of Bobby's neck, feeling the soft short hairs tickling his fingers. He pulled Bobby's head down and kissed him again.

The first few moments were frantic, as though they were both trying to erase all memories of their separation by the intensity of their kisses alone. Darien felt like he was being dropped over Niagara Falls in a barrel, tumbled and battered by overwhelming emotions. When he finally pulled back, breathless and shaking, his lips felt bruised, almost raw.

Silently, Bobby slid onto the bed beside him and they lay facing each other. Darien could see that he was not in much better shape; the hands that reached for him, that slid under his T-shirt and caressed his bare skin, were shaking pitifully. In spite of his sore lips, Darien leaned eagerly towards Bobby again. Even if he'd had breath to speak with, Darien knew that he would never find the words to convey how much he needed Bobby right now. Or how empty his life had been since they'd been apart.

Bobby's tongue invaded his mouth, slowly, sensuously, exploring every contour of tongue, teeth and gums. Then he withdrew, an unspoken invitation for Darien to follow. The gentle exchange continued until Darien's head was spinning.

"Is this okay?" Bobby's voice was hushed. His fingers had somehow found their way to Darien's chest and were tracing random patterns over his ribs.

It took a moment for Darien to register that Bobby was asking a question. When he couldn't manage to answer verbally, another long kiss was confirmation enough. He brought his hand up to stroke Bobby's cheek. Bobby's eyes crinkled at the corners, and suddenly Darien knew that he was going to be all right.

"Bobby..." His voice sound cracked and dry. Darien swallowed awkwardly. "...love you, Bobby."

The hazel eyes brightened with tears, but Bobby kept it tied down. "I love you too, Darien. Not gonna lose you again."

"No." Darien sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. All he was aware of was the slow movement of Bobby's fingers against his skin. "Need you..."

Bobby's lips brushed against his. "You got me kid. Bobby's gonna look after you. It's okay."

"No." Darien opened his eyes again and took a deep breath. His body felt weighed down by exhaustion but he struggled against it to make himself understood. "Need you to make love to me."

"I dunno, Darien. You look pretty bad." Bobby's eyes, his concern evident in their depths, searched his face. "You need to rest."

"Please Bobby." Darien took Bobby's face between his hands and gave him a pleading look. "I need you... need to feel you... please."

"I'm gonna take it slow, okay? If you need me to stop you just say so." Bobby waited for him to nod his agreement, then rolled him onto his back. "Just take it easy. Let me do this."

The caressing fingers slid up and brushed lightly against his nipple, making Darien gasp. It felt so good that, almost before he was aware of it, Darien was arching his body into the touch, silently demanding more.

Bobby chuckled softly. "Let's get this show on the road." He pulled Darien's T-shirt up, and Darien hurriedly lifted his arms to allow Bobby to peel it off over his head. "Mmn... that's better."

Darien smiled up at him and reached for the top button of his shirt. "Not yet." His fingers were trembling, but he managed to get a few buttons undone and then Bobby pulled the shirt off over his head. He peeled off his undershirt and dropped that too. "Now..."

The feel of warm bare skin pressing against him was sheer delight. It seemed like an eternity since he'd last felt this, and his body ached for it. He moaned at the touch of Bobby's hands, gentle and reassuring as the kisses Bobby placed on his lips. He brushed his fingers down Bobby's spine and laughed softly as Bobby shivered against him. It was good to feel the fluid rippling of muscle under his hands.

Gentle lips brushed against the pulse point just below his jaw. And again at the base of his throat. It was almost too good. An ache started in his chest, making it hard to breathe and Darien had to fight back tears of relief and reaction. Only a few hours ago he'd been living in a state of hopelessness, now anything seemed possible.

"You okay, kid?" Bobby pushed himself up on his elbow.

Darien smiled shakily. "Don't stop, Bobby."

Obediently, Bobby lowered his head over Darien's chest. Darien knew what was coming next, but still the sweet sensation of Bobby's lips sucking his nipple surprised a cry out of him. He moved restlessly as warm pleasure spread from his nipple down to his groin and Bobby chuckled against his chest, sending delicious vibrations along his skin.

It had been too long since Darien's body had last felt this good. The sensations peaked then eased off into something more manageable. He relaxed, dazed with pleasure, and content to let Bobby do whatever he wanted. It came as no real surprise when Bobby's hand smoothed its way down his abdomen and came to rest on the top button of his jeans.

He pushed his hips up encouragingly and Bobby lifted his head long enough to grin at Darien before bending to suck his nipple again. The button slipped free and Darien heard the rasp of the zipper as it slowly descended. Bobby's hand slipped inside and brushed lightly over his cock.

"Darien..."

He'd known this would happen from the moment he realised that his body wasn't responding the way his emotions were. Darien met Bobby's worried eyes. "It's okay. I know I can't... I just want to feel you." He swallowed and ran a dry tongue over drier lips. "Make love to me Bobby. I need you to make love to me."

There was no way Bobby could refuse him and he knew it; Bobby needed this as much as he did. Darien lifted his hips when Bobby pushed his jeans and shorts down, then reached impatiently for Bobby's pants. Between them they managed to get Bobby naked too, then rolled together, legs tangling, arms clinging, trying to melt into each other's bodies.

For a short while that was enough. Bobby's cock was pressing hot and eager against Darien's belly but, good as that felt, Darien wanted more. He drew back a little, taking hold of the thick cock and stroking it cautiously. His carefulness was soon rewarded as Bobby shuddered violently, then settled into a steady rhythm, thrusting easily into his hand.

"Oh God... yeah..." Bobby nuzzled his chest and reached between them to stroke Darien's cock, still no more than half hard. "God, Darien..."

Darien clamped his free hand round the back of Bobby's neck and drew him in for a long, searching kiss. The quick thrusts slowed, then stopped.

"Dammit, I can't. Not if you really want me to fuck you." Bobby's annoyance was almost comical. "Are you ready?"

"I sure am, partner." Darien grinned up at him. His fingers strayed restlessly over Bobby's cock, then slid down to fondle the tight balls beneath. "Anytime you are."

Bobby leaned down to kiss him quickly. "You keep doing that, and it'll all be over before you know it."

Darien removed his hand reluctantly and drew his legs up. He thought he saw Bobby's eyes glaze over a little, but then Bobby's face disappeared into his groin. Darien's eyes rolled back in his head.

The gentle sucking on his cock was sheer bliss. It didn't matter that he was barely half-hard, it still felt incredible. Even better when Bobby's fingers slid inside his ass and began a slow massage of his prostate.

Once Bobby was satisfied, he straightened up, poising himself above Darien's body as he guided his cock into his lover. Darien pulled him down into a tight embrace and they lay still, breathing in short gasps until the flood of arousal ebbed a little.

Bobby began to move inside him with slow, deep thrusts that continued the stimulation of his prostate. Almost unconsciously, Darien rocked into his thrusts, as he had so many times before. The gentle rhythm was infinitely comforting and familiar, and Darien felt his cock hardening at last. He took Bobby's face between his hands and kissed him lingeringly, savouring the pleasure and the memories of other times.

But it soon became obvious that Bobby was struggling to hold back. Darien could feel it in the tremors of his body and see it in the frown that was gathering on his face. "It's all right, Bobby, just let go. It's okay."

He brought his legs up and wrapped them around Bobby's hips, using that grip to thrust his body onto Bobby's cock. They both shuddered and Bobby groaned. "Geez, Darien… I can't…"

Whatever battle Bobby was fighting, he lost it then. With another groan, he dropped his head to rest against Darien's shoulder and his cock drove deep and hard into Darien's body. For Darien it was over in a moment. White heat seared through him and he convulsed, barely feeling the spurt of semen against his belly in the rush of sensations. And Bobby was still inside him, still pursuing his own release. Darien clung to him, too depleted to help his lover. Still, he could feel the tremors becoming stronger; could almost feel the climax growing, as though Bobby's body was his own.

"God… Darien…" Bobby's head reared up, and his cock thrust deep into Darien one last time. Then he let loose a wild cry as he came.

They froze there, Darien staring up at the taut curve of Bobby's throat for what seemed like an eternity as Bobby's cock pulsed inside him. Then time returned to its normal flow as Bobby collapsed across him.

*

Somehow Bobby managed to drag some of the bedding haphazardly over the two of them, while Darien lay speechless and dazed in his arms. Even in the last four days, when he knew that Darien was alive, he hadn't allowed himself to think of this - that he would hold Darien again in a sweaty, satisfied lover's embrace. It was too much to take in, too much to feel, and he'd needed to be in control.

Now it was a reality, and he was struggling to stay awake. Darien had already succumbed and was lying limp against his side. They ought to be talking. There was information he needed, plans that had to be worked out. Not emotional stuff, that would have to wait until later. Bobby knew he couldn't handle that now; it had to be business all the way. But, God, he needed to hear Darien's voice.

It wasn't going to happen right now, so Bobby kissed the sweaty hair that was tickling his chin and settled in to wait. He fell asleep almost immediately. It wasn't for long, he was far too keyed up for deep sleep, but he drifted in and out of a light doze and finally surfaced about an hour later. There was still no sign of Claire, and he wasn't sure whether he was pleased about that or not. The need to be alone with Darien was constantly struggling against the need to be making plans to ensure his ultimate safety.

Bobby eased himself free from beneath Darien's sprawl and padded into the bathroom for a washcloth. Claire was bound to return before much longer and he didn't want them both stinking of sex when she did. He wiped himself down, then Darien, and tossed the cloth back into the washbasin.

Unable to resist this particular temptation, he climbed back into the bed and lay watching his lover sleep. Darien had lost weight. Well, they both had, but where Bobby could stand to lose a few pounds, Darien had been skinny enough to start with. His face was thinner too, and paler, and there were dark shadows under his eyes that looked like they'd been there for a long time.

"What have they done to you kid?" He touched Darien's cheek lightly and the younger man stirred, his eyelids fluttering. Bobby drew back his hand at once, but it was too late.

"Hey." Darien's smile widened into an all out yawn. He reached for Bobby, drawing him closer, and Bobby went without the slightest hesitation. So much for planning… his mouth was busy enough but there weren't any sounds coming out of it.

He wrapped his arms around Darien, wanting to feel his lover's body everywhere against his own. How many nights had he lain awake, aching for this and believing he would never have it again? As he lay there, stroking his fingers over Darien's back, feeling Darien's caresses in return, Bobby felt the sharp edges of his pain dissolving, losing their sting. It would take time, a long time probably, but the healing had begun for him. He could only hope that it had started for Darien too.

Certainly, Darien seemed content, making soft little moaning sounds that tugged at Bobby's heart and groin in about equal measure. He felt his cock swelling and told himself that it was too soon, that nothing was going to happen. And still his hand crept downwards until he felt the velvet softness of Darien's cock against his palm, and the tickle of his pubic hair.

Darien sighed against his cheek and stretched, pressing himself into Bobby's touch. His tongue infiltrated Bobby's mouth with sleepy sensuality, then retreated. Bobby pursued. He barely registered the knock on the door; it was the flash of movement that he caught from the corner of his eye that made him pull back suddenly. Then he remembered the sound.

"Oh, don't stop on my account." Claire smiled brightly. "I'll just sit over here and watch."

Bobby saw Darien grin wickedly, and risked a quick glance downward. The covers he'd drawn over them both were enough for decency, but did nothing to disguise the exact position of his hand. He hurriedly snatched it away. Claire's smile widened.

Rolling onto his side, Bobby flung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. His shorts and pants were on the floor beside the bed and he managed to pull them on without showing too much skin to his one woman audience. He dragged his undershirt on and buttoned his shirt over the top, deciding morosely, that he'd better leave it hanging out if he wanted to avoid any more knowing smirks. Behind him, Darien sat up and Bobby passed over his jeans and T-shirt.

While Darien dressed, Bobby went over to where Claire was sitting in one of the easy chairs. He perched on the arm of the other one. "What took you so long?"

Claire leaned back in the chair. "I wanted to see what was happening at their headquarters."

"You weren't supposed to do that! What if they saw you?" Claire didn't answer and Bobby was torn between wanting to know and his disapproval of her actions. "So, what was happening?"

"It's hard to say. There was a lot of activity, but I didn't get the feeling they had anything definite to go on."

"Is this a private conversation, or can anybody join?" Darien sauntered over looking tousled and sleepy and too post-coital to be entirely decent, even fully clothed. "Bobby, you take the chair."

Bobby took one look at the dark circles around Darien's eyes. "No, you take the chair."

"You take it."

"Darien, you look like shit. You take the chair."

Darien rolled his eyes and dropped into the chair, sinking into an easy sprawl. The top of his head reached Bobby's nose, and Bobby had to resist the urge to bury it in that unruly mop of hair. He glanced up to see Claire watching Darien.

"You really do look pretty bad, Darien."

"Yeah, well, after the last few months..." Bobby felt Darien tense up. He glanced up at Bobby then across at Claire. "Why are you guys here? I mean, why now? Why not last week, or next week? Why not three months ago?"

Suddenly Bobby was standing, staring down at Darien. He backed away a couple of steps, struggling to breathe.

"Bobby? What's the matter?"

He barely heard Claire's voice, needing all his self-control not to turn and run. There were only two doors in the room, one led to the outside, the other to the bathroom. When Darien pushed himself up out of the chair, Bobby threw himself through the bathroom door and slammed it shut.

The bright light, reflecting off the mirror and white tiles, hurt his eyes. Bobby grasped the edge of the washbasin and leaned his weight against it, closing his eyes. How could Darien have thought that? That Bobby had known all along and had just left him here... was that how little Darien trusted him?

He could hear their voices in the other room, but not what they were saying. A short, bitter laugh managed to find its way past lips clamped shut against the nausea roiling in his gut. Even now, he'd come in here, rather than leave altogether. Because he couldn't leave Darien alone and unprotected. Yet that was exactly what Darien thought he'd been doing for the last three months.

He heard Darien's quiet knock on the door, and his voice. When he didn't respond Darien opened the door anyway. "Bobby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. I just thought..." A hand touched his shoulder, light and fleeting as a puff of air. "I don't know what I thought."

"You thought I'd just let someone take you away from me and not even bother to do anything about it? Is that what you thought?" He was being unfair, and he knew it. It had been three months. Anyone could have lost hope in that time. Even so, it took a huge effort of will for Bobby to open his eyes, straighten and turn to face his lover. "You're sorry now. Do you have any idea what it was like thinking you were dead all those months?"

It only took one step for Darien to be in front of him. Those long arms reached out and dragged him against Darien's chest, and he didn't have the strength to pull away. "I do know Bobby. They told me the same thing. I thought you were dead too."

Bobby forced himself away from Darien's comforting warmth. He looked up into a drawn face that held no hint of fakery. The tightness in his chest wasn't for his own pain alone, now. He reached up to touch Darien's cheek and suddenly they were kissing, with the same desperation he'd felt when Darien first woke.

After a few seconds Bobby eased himself out of Darien's grip, all too aware of Claire's presence in the next room and knowing that if he didn't stop now, they'd be making love on the bathroom floor in a couple of minutes. He smiled up at Darien. "We gotta go."

"Yeah." Darien's voice was lower and huskier than usual. He brushed his fingertips across Bobby's cheek and they came away damp. "I hope you've got something planned so you get to keep me this time."

Bobby moved past him and opened the door. "Bobby Hobbes always has a plan, my friend." A little shove in the small of his back conveyed Darien's opinion of that.

They settled back into the chair. Bobby sat on the arm again and this time Darien didn't argue. "So what's the plan, Bobby?"

"All we know is that the President's being leaned on. He's leaning on the Fat Man, and that's why the CIA got hold of you." Bobby looked into Darien's upturned face and couldn't help smiling a little. "I guess you didn't find out anything while you've been on the inside?"

"Lots of things." Darien looked grim. "Nothing useful, though."

In another minute Bobby was going to kiss him again. He just wasn't going to be able to stop himself. He saw the knowledge of that fact reflected in Darien's eyes. Darien was already lifting a hand to touch him when Claire leaned forward, frowning.

"Darien, let me see your arm?"

Darien's head turned towards her and he held out his right arm. Already one segment of the snake was red. Bobby stared from Darien's wrist to Claire's worried face. "You didn't give him enough counteragent."

She shook her head, denying the accusation in his voice. "I gave him the normal dosage. Have they been experimenting with your dosage, Darien?"

"Not experimenting, exactly." Darien's voice sounded strange.

Bobby laid a hand on his shoulder, remembering how terrified Darien had been before the monitor had given him a sense of security. "What? What have they done to you?"

Darien glanced up and then away again, quickly, but Bobby had seen something in his eyes... fear, or maybe guilt? "They only gave me enough counteragent to last twenty-four hours."

"But that's insane. Why would they do such a thing?" Claire looked from Darien's wrist up to Bobby's face.

"Control." Bobby repressed the urge to curse. "He wouldn't get very far if he needed a shot that often."

"It still doesn't add up. Bobby, with the level of Quicksilver in his blood that would cause, Darien wouldn't be much use as an agent."

She was right. Bobby looked down at Darien, who was staring at his knees. "Darien?"

"They didn't want me as an agent." Darien's voice was low, almost inaudible.

What other use would an agency like that have for a man who could go invisible? Oh God... Darien had been carrying a gun when they found him. Darien always hated carrying a gun. Two and two gave Bobby an answer he didn't want to think about. He stood up, too angry to remain still, but not wanting to give voice to that anger in front of Darien.

"I don't even remember how many I killed. I don't remember their faces. But I do remember enjoying it." Darien glanced at Claire but avoided Bobby's gaze. He sounded scared. "They'd delay the shots till I was close to going crazy then take me out to the target. By the time I got there, I just didn't care."

Claire was staring at Darien, hand to her mouth. Bobby was standing so still he thought he'd lost the ability to move. If he did move, he thought he might just fall into a thousand pieces, like the Quicksilver when it came off Darien. The silence stretched out until it was difficult to imagine anything breaking it.

Finally, Darien looked up at Bobby, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "I tried to fight them. I swore I wouldn't do it."

"What did they do, Darien?" Claire asked the question. Bobby couldn't.

"They kept me on the edge of Quicksilver madness for four days." Darien was still looking only at Bobby. "They'd only give me enough counteragent to last two hours. They'd already told me..." his voice choked and he swallowed, "...told me that I'd killed you, Bobby, while I'd been Quicksilver mad. That I'd attacked the Official and Claire... that was why I'd been given to them. I thought I didn't want to live, but after four days... I guess a part of me still did."

"Those bastards! Those fucking bastards..." All the anger that he'd been holding in poured out of him in a explosion of sound and movement. Bobby realised he was pacing back and forth across the small room, wanting desperately to get his hands on at least one of the people who'd used Darien like that.

Darien was still in the chair, looking like he'd lost everything he'd ever cared about. Bobby forced himself to a halt beside the chair. "It wasn't your fault. They made you do it."

"So I was just obeying orders?" Darien forced a smile. "Seems like I've heard that before."

Bobby was becoming increasingly worried by the wretched look on Darien's face. "Darien, with all that Quicksilver in your blood you can't have been thinking straight." He looked at Claire. "Right?"

Claire considered his question for a moment. "Probably not."

Darien unfolded himself from the chair and stood in front of Bobby. "I killed those men. I don't know who they were, I don't even know if they'd done anything wrong. I didn't ask."

"You didn't have a choice. It was you or them." Bobby lifted his hand to touch Darien's chest. He felt the warmth of Darien's body, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"How many men died so I could live, Bobby?" Tears were trickling down Darien's cheeks now, and his voice was shaking. "I don't even know, and I'm the one who killed them."

He would have killed to keep Darien alive, without hesitation. He would have killed to save Darien from this. Darien might be an ex-con, but Bobby knew him through and through. There wasn't a mean bone in the kid's body, and in some ways Darien was very innocent. He had a conscience, and if it was adaptable as far as other people's property was concerned, when human lives were at stake, Darien had a strong sense of what was wrong and what was right.

It sickened Bobby to think about how that conscience had been abused because of the gland in Darien's head, and he wondered if Darien would ever again be the same easy-going, kind-hearted guy he'd fallen in love with. He grabbed Darien and pulled him into a fierce embrace. After a frozen moment, Darien slumped against him and wrapped his long arms around Bobby's torso. Immediately, Bobby slid one hand into Darien's hair, drawing his head down so he could rest his cheek against it.

"I love you, okay? This isn't gonna change anything between us." Bobby hugged him tighter, as though by doing it he could make Darien believe him.

Too soon, Darien drew back, but he looked a little better. Bobby kissed him once, hard, and let him go. As Darien moved back to the chair, the red flash of the monitor on his wrist reminded Bobby of where this discussion had started.

He caught Claire's eye and gestured toward Darien. "You can fix it, right? Give him another shot?"

"Not right away. I only brought one dose. It should have lasted six days." She lapsed into thought for a moment. "At this rate, provided the production of Quicksilver doesn't increase as the counteragent is depleted... I'd say we have two days, three if we're lucky. It ought to be enough."

Darien shifted restlessly. "As long as I don't have to use the Quicksilver."

He sounded scared, and Bobby didn't blame him. Chances were, he would have to go saran wrap at some point. "How long can he go invisible?"

"Safely?" Claire pursed her lips. "Ten minutes, tops. I can't be sure of anything past that."

"Bobby..." Darien's voice shook, "just keep your gun handy, okay? If it comes to a choice between me and you... just make sure the gland dies too."

"No!" Bobby stood and stared down into Darien's terrified face. He felt sick just thinking about what Darien was asking for. "You can't ask me to do that."

"Please." Darien half rose out of the chair then sank back. "I can't live through that again."

Through that... believing he'd killed his lover. The rage began to rise inside Bobby again and he wished for just one shot at the bastard who'd done this. "It won't happen, okay?" He threw up a hand to stop Darien's response, "but if it does, I'll take care of things, I promise."

And if he had to shoot Darien, then Bobby Hobbes would be dead in the next breath.

.

*

"I don't like this." Darien looked from Claire to Bobby and back again. They were both wearing black; Claire even had a black beanie over her pale hair. They were both carrying guns. He wasn't.

Bobby patted his shoulder. "Come on, buddy. You know we have to do this."

He knew. He still didn't like it. They'd had to come back to the Centre to get the counteragent. Bobby had also insisted that without some kind of damaging information, the Official would be forced to send Darien right back to the CIA, and Darien was inclined to agree with him. Then Claire had insisted that she get copies of his medical records so she could find a way to get him back to normal Quicksilver levels.

So, they had to be here. He couldn't do it on his own. Claire and Bobby couldn't get past the surveillance cameras in the hallways. At least, not without his help. Darien too a deep breath and put a hand on each of his companions' shoulders. It took a little more effort to Quicksilver all three of them, but he managed it. He tried not to think about the monitor. After only six hours, two of the segments had turned red.

They walked in silence down to the lab. The lights were still on and the door ajar, even though it was well after midnight. Aw, crap… Bailey was in there. They held a whispered conference, then Darien and Bobby slipped through the door and flanked Bailey as he bent over the bench typing into his laptop. They de-silvered together, as slick as if they'd practiced it and Bobby pointed his gun at Bailey's side.

"Darien, where have you…" Bailey registered Bobby standing on his other side. "Oh."

It was obvious that he'd recognised Bobby, presumably from a photo, and he didn't seem in the least bit surprised to find him alive.

"You've never met my partner." Darien smiled tightly. "Maybe because he's dead?"

Bailey had the grace to look repentant. "Darien, I'm sorry. But there was no way I could tell you the truth. If Carter had found out…"

Help came from an unexpected source. "He may be right Darien." Claire stepped into the room, pulling off her beanie as she did. "If this Carter is the mastermind behind your transfer, then there's no telling what might have happened."

Bailey smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last." He held out a hand then obviously thought better of it and allowed it to drop to his side. "I've read all your notes on the Quicksilver project."

"Well, I'm rather looking forward to reading yours." Claire sounded grim. "How can you justify…"

"Please, I didn't enjoy having to do what I did, but it was better than allowing Carter to set one of his cronies onto Darien." Bailey glanced apologetically at Darien. "Mr Borden demanded that I be assigned to you as your Keeper. I did my best to protect you."

Bobby was muttering under his breath, but it was obvious that even he accepted Bailey's explanation. Darien shrugged. "Okay, I'll buy that there wasn't a lot you could do to stop Carter. It doesn't matter. I'm going, and I'm not coming back."

"But first we need more counteragent." Claire inclined her head towards the refrigerator. "How much do you have there?"

"Almost a month's supply." Bailey saw her surprise and grinned. "I've found a way to prevent it degenerating."

"Show me." Claire stepped past Darien and Bobby and the two of them peered at the laptop.

Bobby rolled his eyes and pulled Darien to one side. "I'll keep an eye on these two, you go check out Carter's office."

A quick touch on Bobby's arm was all the acknowledgment Darien gave. He headed for the door, Quicksilvering as he went. It only took a couple of minutes to reach Carter's office and he met nobody on the way. Just in case the office was under surveillance, Darien remained invisible, trying to ignore the feeling that the Quicksilver was building in his bloodstream. He should have plenty of time.

Not much to his surprise, a quick survey of the desk drawers yielded nothing. Darien's instincts told him that the kind of information that could be used to blackmail a president was not likely to be so easy to find. Still, it would be foolish to overlook the obvious; Carter was certainly devious enough to hide his secrets in plain view.

Plain view… Darien looked up at the crest on the wall. It was certainly obvious enough that few people would think of hiding anything there; but Carter wasn't just anybody. He ran his fingers around the edge of the crest, and… yes! He released the hidden catch and swung the plaque out. There was a small safe behind it, set into the wall. Small, but so high-tech that Darien had a moment's doubt. If only he had his old toolkit. Well, there was no point worrying over things he couldn't change; the gland had taught him that.

He'd just cracked the door of the safe when a twinge in the back of his head warned him that he'd been invisible too long. He let the Quicksilver drop away and reached for the phone on Carter's desk. Too late now to worry about surveillance. He dialled the extension for the lab.

"Laboratory." Bailey's voice sounded reassuringly normal.

"It's Fawkes. I need the counteragent." Darien gasped as a much stronger jolt of pain hit him. "Quickly."

He dropped the phone and went back to the safe, hoping to distract his attention from the growing madness. It was like an insidious whisper in his head, growing rapidly stronger. The next warning sent agony lancing through him. He dropped to the floor, curling into a ball. He had to fight this… help was on its way, he just had to hold on.

"Darien?"

Oh God, no… not Bobby… Darien dragged himself upright, holding desperately to his sanity and the desk. He could feel the madness settling over him like a shroud. . "Bobby. Stay away."

"I got the counteragent Darien." Bobby lifted the syringe. "I can help you. Just hold on."

"Why should I?" He felt the pressure in his head recede a little. "Bobby, get away!"

"I can't do that Darien." Bobby moved cautiously toward him. "Just keep it together, Fawkes. You can do it."

He couldn't. As Bobby took another step into the room Darien launched himself towards Bobby, hands closing around his throat. A last flicker of sanity made him loosen his grip for a moment, then his hands tightened as the madness took him.

*

"Darien? Come on big guy."

Bobby's voice… it was the sweetest sound Darien thought he'd ever heard. Somehow Bobby must have given him the shot. He turned his head in the direction of the sound and opened his eyes. Bobby smiled down at him, but it seemed forced.

"Bobby..." his voice was little more than a harsh croak. He swallowed and tried again. "Bobby, what happened? I was strangling you and then…"

An arm under his shoulders helped him sit up. "Claire got the shot into you. She was right behind me."

He had the feeling Bobby wasn't telling him everything, but he wasn't inclined to question him right now. "I got the safe open. Is it in there?"

"Oh, I think so." Claire was leafing through a folder. "I'd say we have everything we need, now."

"Good. Let's get outta here." Bobby took Darien's hand and pulled him to his feet. "You up for some more Quicksilvering?"

Darien shuddered, but there was no real alternative, he supposed. "What about Bailey?"

"Don't worry about him." Bobby started dragging him towards the door. Claire was close behind them.

There was something… a shadow in the corner of the room that hadn't been there before. Darien stopped in his tracks "Wait. What's that?"

"Nothing. Come on Darien." Bobby tugged at his arm impatiently.

Claire pushed at him from behind. "We don't have a lot of time."

"No." Darien slipped from between the two of them and walked over to the shadow. It was a body. He knelt, turning it over. The body tumbled onto its back, but the angle of the head and neck were all wrong and he couldn't see the face. When he moved the head it felt loose, unconnected. It was Bailey. "Oh no…"

"He came up with us to help." Claire's voice, but Darien was sure that it was Bobby's hand touching his shoulder. "There was a struggle…"

"I killed him." Darien stood and looked down at Bailey. As much as he'd resented Bailey, the man had tried to help him as much as he could.

"The gland killed him, Darien, not you." Bobby touched his shoulder again. "We need to get out of here now."

"Yeah." Darien turned away. He never wanted to see this room again,

*

Three a.m. Bobby ignored tired gritty eyes and an aching throat and tightened his hands on the steering wheel. They were halfway to Baltimore. It wasn't the best solution, but they'd had to get out of DC and they sure as Hell couldn't fly. By morning the CIA would be all over the airports.

He'd pretty much expected this, and they'd brought everything to the Centre in the trunk of the hired car. That was going to be the next problem. Claire had paid for the car with her credit card, and Bobby wasn't prepared to bet that it hadn't been traced. So... ditch the car, find a motel to stay in for what was left of the night, and take a cab to the airport in the morning.

Claire was dozing in the front seat. Bobby glanced in the mirror and saw that Darien was still curled up asleep in the back. Good. He was worried about Darien… not only his health, but his state of mind seemed pretty fragile, and in spite of Claire's seeming certainty that she could fix things, Bobby wasn't so sure. God knew the shrinks he'd seen had only been able to help so much.

He finally pulled over a block away from a small motel he'd used once, years ago. It wasn't ideal, but Darien was still sleeping and both he and Claire were exhausted. They checked in at the office, and Bobby paid in cash, spinning a story about a late night breakdown to the mildly suspicious desk clerk. The room was pretty much what he expected, but at least it had two double beds that seemed comfortable enough when he bounced on the edges. He chose one and tossed his suitcase into the middle of it.

"I'm gonna have a shower. Anybody else?" He hadn't meant to make it sound so ambiguous, but Darien grinned and Claire laughed, then asked if she could brush her teeth first. "Hey. What did I say?"

When Claire came out, he made no objection when Darien came with him, though it didn't make it any easier for him to relieve himself first, knowing that Darien was undressing behind him. By the time he'd finished, Darien was already in the shower. He shed his clothes rapidly and stepped into the shower and Darien's embrace.

It was a damn good shower, plenty of hot water and with enough room for both of them to be comfortable. Bobby groaned as the hot water poured over him. Then his mouth was covered by Darien's. He leaned into Darien as they kissed, happy just to be so close to him. Darien's tongue made slow, sensuous love to his mouth, then withdrew. Before Bobby could object, Darien bent his head and began a slow trail of kisses across Bobby's cheek and down to his throat.

Oh yeah... Bobby tilted his head so that Darien could reach that little spot... ohhh... that one... he moaned happily. Abruptly, the kisses stopped.

"Hey!" Bobby's protest died as he saw Darien's face. "What's wrong, Darien?"

"Your throat... oh God, I did that." Darien brushed his fingers over the bruises on Bobby's throat.

He'd almost forgotten about them. Too much else going on. "Don't worry about it, kid."

"Don't worry!" Darien stared at him incredulously. "I almost..."

Bobby put a hand over his mouth. "No point going over old stuff." He smiled seductively and tilted his head, pointing to his neck. "I know a way you can make it up to me."

Darien couldn't quite stop himself from giving a reluctant smile, and Bobby grinned. "Make it up to me, Darien."

It seemed like Darien was going to pull out all the stops to do as Bobby has asked. That was okay, if it made him feel better. Bobby tanged his fingers in Darien's hair and provided a little guidance until Darien's head moved lower, over his shoulder and down to his nipples. With a tired sigh he leaned back against the shower wall, enjoying the swirl of Darien's tongue over his chest and nipples and, as Darien moved lower still, the hot needles of water hitting his skin.

By the time Darien was kneeling in front of him, Bobby was well and truly in heaven. All he needed was Darien's mouth on his cock, and life would be perfect. It wasn't quite happening that way. Darien's hands rested on his thighs and Darien's mouth was just about everywhere except for the one place Bobby really wanted it.

He could have done something about it, of course, but Bobby decided to let things take their natural course. He was tired, and not yet completely hard, so there was no real hurry, and the feel of the water running it hot rivulets over his body was pretty damn wonderful all on its own. Eventually Darien sat back on his heels and looked up at him. And that was interesting too, because now, one of those runnels of hot water was pouring down his erection and cascading off his cockhead. Darien smiled lazily up at him and leaned forward to catch the water in his mouth.

For a moment Bobby felt like his brain might explode with sheer lust. Or maybe his cock. Whatever. Every so often Darien's tongue would flicker over his cockhead and send a jolt of pleasure through him. It was almost a relief when Darien sucked the tip of his cock into his mouth and went down on him like a two-bit hooker.

God, he was good. Bobby resisted the urge to drive into the tight clutch of Darien's lips and pressed his butt into the shower wall. He grabbed two handfuls of Darien's wet hair and began to guide him, not that Darien really needed any help. Darien's mouth was wonderful, hot and wet as the shower, endlessly welcoming. Bobby groaned, trying not to think about how long it had been since Darien had done this for him. There was only one thing he needed more than this. Then a trickle of water ran into Darien's nose and his lover barely released him in time before he broke into a fit of sneezing.

"Hey, careful there." Bobby grinned. "You really don't want to break anything."

"Sure don't." Darien eased back until he was sitting, leaning back against the opposite wall of the shower. One hand dropped between his splayed legs and began lazily stroking his cock.

He knew how that turned Bobby on... with a soft growl, Bobby pushed himself away from the wall and leaned over his seated lover. His cock brushed against Darien's cheek, and Darien lost no time in guiding it back into his mouth. Bobby rocked forward, sliding deep and then pulling back until only his cockhead remained, caught between Darien's lips. Did it again, nice and slow.

After a while he forgot he wanted to take it easy and was pumping into Darien's mouth, his cock throbbing, thighs aching with the effort it took not to lose control completely. He could see the swift movement of Darien's hand on his cock, and the tremors running through the long, lean body. With an effort that hurt, Bobby pulled back and dropped to his knees.

"Don't come." He kissed Darien hungrily, tasting himself in Darien's mouth. "Not yet."

Darien gulped, and closed his eyes. "Okay." He sounded like he'd run a mile.

"Good." Bobby pushed Darien's legs further apart and gently released the grip Darien had on his cock. "I want you so bad, partner..."

That word alway drove Darien crazy for some reason, when Bobby used it during lovemaking. "Ohhh... fuuck...."

"That's pretty much what I was thinking." Bobby grinned as Darien's eyes flew open. "That okay with you, partner?"

"Uh huh." Darien nodded, reduced to speechlessness now. He reached for Bobby and pulled him closer.

"Hold on..." Bobby positioned himself astride Darien's hips and slowly lowered himself as Darien held his cock steady. "Oh, yeah..."

That first blunt pressure always felt incredible. Bobby pushed down until he was sitting in Darien's lap. His lips were on a level with the hollow at the base of Darien's throat and he leaned forward to lap at the tiny drops of sweat mingled with water that had collected there. Darien's hands stroked down his back, over his butt, soothing and arousing at the same time.

They rested like that for a moment, gathering themselves for what would be the climax of their lovemaking. Bobby could feel the heavy throb of Darien's cock inside him, matching the pulses that beat within his own body. They weren't going to have long.

Darien moaned, and Bobby kissed the side of his throat. "Ready?"

"Yeah." The large hands moved restlessly over his hips. "Bobby..."

"It's okay. Stay with me, kid." Bobby lifted himself slightly, rising along the length of Darien's cock, then pressed back down again, slowly the first couple of times, until they'd got the mechanics sorted out, then faster, deeper, responding to the insistent demands of their bodies.

"Oh! Oh God..." Darien's eyes were clenched shut, his mouth open in a long, wordless cry as Bobby felt his cock pulse sharply, inside him.

It wasn't quite enough to trigger Bobby's climax, and he groaned in disappointment. But moments later he felt Darien's hand close around his cock, and that, with the fullness inside him was enough. Long, intense shudders racked his body as Darien held him close. When it ended he slumped, exhausted, against his lover's body.

The water was distinctly cooler when they finally stirred. Bobby managed to lever himself upright, and he held down a hand to help Darien up off the tiles. They clung to each other for a moment, wobbly-legged and dizzy, then Bobby gently detached himself and reached for a wash cloth. They washed each other down, stumbled out of the shower and dried themselves off, all in an easy silence.

Luckily, Bobby had brought plenty of spare underwear. They could hardly sleep naked with Claire in the same room, and Darien's few belongings had been left behind in Washington. He looked good in the soft, clinging shorts and the T-shirt that barely reached his waist. Bobby made a mental note to make Darien wear his stuff more often.

*

Later, much later, as he lay in the double bed, holding Darien in his arms, Bobby wondered whether they should risk moving in together. He was under no illusions that the Fat Man would allow them to stay together as partners if he ever found out they were lovers, but if they got a two roomed apartment... and if Claire and Eberts could be convinced to help out... just maybe it would work. He never wanted to let Darien out of his sight again.

Maybe he could make it a security issue. After what had happened in DC... it might work. Bobby yawned and blinked himself awake. They ought to be pretty safe here, but he wasn't about to take chances. He could sleep on the plane and by the time they were in San Diego, he'd be just fine.

Darien stirred in his arms and half woke, muttering under his breath. Bobby felt the brush of lips against his throat and smiled.

"Bobby?"

He tightened his hold a little. "I'm here, kid. You okay?"

"Mmn..." Another kiss, then Darien raised his head, still looking half asleep. He hitched himself up a little and kissed Bobby on the lips.

Bobby rolled them both onto their sides and kissed him back. The next few minutes were spent in exchanging kisses, sweet and comforting, like being wrapped up all cosy and warm on a cold winter's night. Darien's hands began to wander, aimlessly at first, and then with more purpose. When one of them reached his groin, Bobby clamped his fingers round Darien's wrist.

"Aw... come on, Bobby. You know you want to..." Darien's voice was soft and seductive.

Bobby caught hold of his other hand, which was obviously bound on the same mission. "Claire's sharing the room, remember?"

Darien chuckled huskily. "So? She wouldn't mind watching, if she were awake."

Another chuckle, this one lighter and higher in pitch came from the other bed. Darien's eyes widened and it was all Bobby could do not to choke. Nobody said a word and after a moment Darien relaxed into his arms again and was immediately asleep. Bobby fingered his hopefully stirring cock and sighed. The clock said it was just after four a.m. but Bobby suspected it was going to be a long night.

*

Nothing had changed. He'd been to Hell and back, and nothing had changed. Darien sat slumped in the same chair he always used and stared at the familiar crest of the Department of Fish and Game, and at the even more familiar faces of the Official and Eberts. How could nothing have changed?

He'd tuned out what Claire was saying about the things the CIA had done to him. Those wounds were far too raw for him to want to prod at them that way. She'd already told him what had happened, medically. His body had adjusted to having a higher level of Quicksilver in his blood, so when she gave him the proper dosage of counteragent the gland went into overtime to produce more. She was pretty sure she'd be able to get him back to normal, and that was all he cared about.

Well, that, and one other thing... he glanced over at Bobby. He wondered if it could possibly work. The Fat Man had been pretty good to Bobby, he supposed; keeping him on when Bobby had been a basket case. But what Bobby said, or wanted, didn't seem to count for much in this place, and Darien was hardly in a position to make demands. He'd be lucky not to get sent straight back to the CIA.

"Look, this is all very well, but human rights abuses aren't going to cut much ice." The Official cut across Claire's indignant voice. "We're talking about the CIA. That kind of thing is SOP for them."

"Indeed." Eberts stepped smoothly into the conversational gap. "I recall an ugly incident when..."

The Fat Man flashed him an irritated glance. "Thank you, Eberts."

"How about setting up a... shall we say, high ranking politician with a honey trap and then using it to blackmail him?" Bobby produced a folder, apparently out of thin air, and passed it to the Official.

He took it and flicked through the contents, then looked up again at Bobby. "Where did you get this?"

"Oh, I have my sources." Darien exchanged a glance with Bobby, who continued smoothly. "I think that oughta be worth something, don't you? Some kind of consideration? Maybe a pay rise?"

The Fat Man ignored the remark about a pay rise with the ease of long practice. Darien wondered whether Bobby even really meant it any more. It had probably just become a habit. He watched as the Official flipped over a couple of pages and lifted out a set of negatives. "It might be worth keeping you on. You haven't exactly been pulling your weight around here recently."

It was time for Darien to get involved. "What about me? Bobby wouldn't have found that stuff if he hadn't come looking for me. Besides, I figure you owe me for handing me over to those bastards."

The Official closed the folder and looked straight at Darien. "This information should give me the leverage to keep you here. Perhaps you should be satisfied with that." The Official's voice was complacent. "I told you often enough that you were better off here than you would be with other agencies. Now maybe you'll believe me."

"All right. Say I do believe you." Darien fought to keep a lid on his anger. "I still want to make some changes."

The Fat Man looked anything but encouraging. "Go on."

"It's not much, and it won't cost you anything." Darien hesitated. This was the crucial stuff. He just hoped it all went to plan. "I want a bodyguard. Day and night, twenty-four hours. Bobby said he'd do it. We'd just have to move in together." So far, so good. The Official was non-committal, but he'd never expected enthusiasm. "And I want my own supply of counteragent. I want Bobby to be able to give it to me. When we're out in the field, there's gonna be situations where Claire won't be able to get to me in time. I want Bobby to have some counteragent with him."

That had the Official frowning. The counteragent was expensive and Darien knew he liked to keep a tight rein on it. The sound of Claire clearing her throat made Darien turn his head.

"I think he's right. After all, we invested seventeen million dollars in the gland, and it would be a shame to waste it, for the lack of a little counteragent." She smiled at Darien. "It's good to have you back, mate."

"Thanks." His voice was dry. They'd decided that Claire had never been involved with his return from Washington. Officially, she'd been sick and was surprised as anyone at his return. Eberts had also apparently forgotten his conversation with Bobby. Darien was pretty sure there was something going on there that Bobby wasn't telling him about, but whenever he asked Bobby just laughed and assured him that he really didn't want to know. "So, how about it, boss?"

"All right." The Official sounded reluctant. Well, he wasn't used to making concessions to his subordinates. Before anyone could get too excited, he held up a hand. "I'll agree provisionally. Any trouble out of you..." he fixed a warning stare on Darien, "and I'll pull those privileges so fast it'll make you head spin."

"Sure, boss." Darien rose to his feet. Time to get out before the Fat Man changed his mind. "Appreciate it." He followed Bobby out into the hallway and frowned at him as the door closed. "Did you have to bring up the pay rise? You know he's never going to agree to it. He won't even give you a calling card."

"I figure he expects it now." Bobby tapped the side of his nose. "And it gives him something he can say no to."

"Yeah?" Darien flung an arm across his shoulders and steered him down the hallway. "That's pretty smart, Bobby. Sneaky. I like that."

"There. You see? You should never underestimate Bobby Hobbes, my friend."

He dropped a kiss on the top of Bobby's head and tightened his grip. "Oh, I won't. Hey, have you ever seen that movie 'The Bodyguard'?"

For once Bobby didn't object to his public display of affection. "Seen it. Cried at it."

"No!" Darien was impressed. "You cried? Really?"

"A strong man is not afraid to cry, Fawkes."

"Is that a quote?"

"Nah. One of my shrinks told me that. Number four... or maybe it was number six..."

Darien laughed. It was good to be home at last.

 


End file.
